Quiet Fury
by Pegasus777
Summary: Happens right after "I hate you". Has a lot of stuff which should have been mentioned on the show. Overly milked, I know. Features acid-tongued Peyton from first season. Breyton, Brucas , Neyton friendship. Eventual Leyton.
1. Chapter 1

**[A/N: I do not own anything. Chapter's short, but more coming up.]**

Not for the first time, Peyton Sawyer was heartbroken. The depression and angst she had worked for four years to let go of, had slowly begun to resurface, her emotions meddled with and her numbness renewed. She had experienced something similar only four years ago, in this very town, when her best friend had told her she was slowly falling for Lucas Scott, when Brooke and Lucas had started going steady, and when he had said 'Oh!' to her heartfelt love confession. And it was the same man everytime. Lucas _freaking_ Scott. The blue-eyed playboy, no, casanova, who was so utterly conflicted that he felt whichever woman he was with was definitely 'the one', and he had only been lying to himself before when he had felt other women were 'the one's. Previously, Peyton had prided herself on being able to understand this man, prided herself in thinking that she was the tortured artist to his tortured athlete, and that her and Lucas had True Love Always.

On a good day, even now, she kept believing that. Convincing herself that he'd come back for her. That he loved her as much as she loved him. So, she had returned to Tree Hill, only to find he had moved on with a beautiful, successful, blue-eyed Ivy League graduate, Lindsey Strauss, as opposed to the now-unemployed, never-gone-to-university, LA reject, perpetual failure with chickeny legs that Peyton was. She had been stupid to think he would still yearn for her. Yet, she had fought for him, stupidly attempting to break up what she now knew were two people happily in love, which culminated in her leaving his sorry ass at the altar.

She had behaved in an immature manner, she knew now. Become the worst possible version of herself, and in the process, earned the dislike of said Ivy League graduate, who for god-unknown reasons, had _respected_ her before. And it had taken only three words for her to realise this. Three words that would change her life. Three words that she would have given anything not to hear. Three words that pulled her out of her daze, and forced her to show the world what Peyton Sawyer was, strong, independent artist, not a heartbroken lovesick puppy who couldn't stop herself from poking her nose in other people's business. Three words that had made Peyton find the Peyton whom Lindsey had admired.

_"I hate you."_

Coming straight from Casanova's mouth, Peyton had been heartbroken. She had fallen to pieces. Then she had had her own moment of clarity. She wasn't going to run after her teenage blue-eyed fantasy, she was going to well and truly, move on. Stop caring about him. She was done. Destroyed, yes, but done.

She looked at herself in the mirror, and she looked different than she remembered. No longer the weak, dependent female LA had made her, but the strong, independent lady she always had been.

She smiled, and went off to make some coffee.


	2. Chapter 2

**[A/N: I own nothing.]**

Brooke woke up, and washed her face. She seriously hoped Peyton would be less depressed today. She loved the blonde, and was willing to listen, but she was unable to understand why, after 2 long years and 1 serious boyfriend, Peyton was still unable to let go of Lucas. Brooke listened to her long chants about how perfect Lucas was, how his muscled arms would hold said Blondie after a long day, how he never needed to tell her how much he loved her, while constantly hoping Peyton would finally find the strength to let go. Lucas's recent 'I hate you' had definitely depressed her best friend even more. So, when she went down to the living room, to find Peyton sitting on the sofa, laughing out loud watching The Big Bang Theory, Brooke was immeasurably pleased.

'Hey, B Davis!' called Peyton, motioning her to come over.

Brooke walked up to her, grinning, knowing Peyton was back from The Depths Of Indefinite Gloom.

'You all right?' she asked a little warily, hoping this wasn't a result of too many anti-depression pills. Peyton rolled her eyes, and, more seriously, turned to Brooke. 'Yeah! Well...I recently realized how pathetically whiny I was being. And I am _not_ that person.' Peyton crossed her arms and stared into space, confidently.

'I have wasted too many hours pining over that Blue-Eyed Casanova. I have been utterly dependent on you, which I absolutely hate. So all that's gonna end. I am going to move on, and never look back. I'm going to chuck the what-could've-beens into one corner and...'

Brooke hurriedly interrupted. 'Okay, Sawyer, I really do not wish to hear your overly broody thoughts. All I care about is that my best friend has moved on from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named [A/N: _Not _Voldemort.] So what say, girlie, ready to go shopping?'

Peyton grinned. Brooke was still the same cheery, forever-happy person Peyton always tried to be, but never really succeeded. She nodded, as Brooke jumped in eagerness.

'Well, I'm gonna go change!' she squealed. 'And Sawyer, you better wear something other than those horrible worn-out jeans. Your fashion sense is as bad as ever.' Brooke smirked, as Peyton rolled her eyes. She was wearing an old Pink Floyd t-shirt, ripped jeans, and was just about to put her Converses on when she heard Brooke, and knowing how stubborn she was when it came to clothes, decided it was best to change.

So she made her way upstairs, soon emerging in a green dress, as she saw Brooke in a red top and skirt. They walked arm-in-arm to the old Comet, as Peyton realised this was the happiest she had been in quite some time. She wouldn't give this away for the world.

As they got to the mall, Brooke suggested they have a snack first, so they could shop in peace. Peyton smirked. She knew shopping with Brooke mainly consisted of trying on whatever Brooke gave you, then buying it or not according to Brooke's decision. Peyton didn't complain. Her fashion sense was seriously bad, and Brooke owned a confounded label. She knew what she was doing.

They stopped at Taco Bell, and Peyton placed their orders. All the while, she couldn't help thinking if Lucas had had his own moment of clarity, and stopped drinking by the gallon. She didn't yearn for him though, much to her own surprise. Rather, she hoped for him.

Soon enough, they finished snacking, and bought three sundresses (Brooke), four expensive perfumes (Brooke), a Prada purse(Brooke) and a pair of jeans (Peyton). Just your average day with Brooke Davis.

**[A/N: I know the first two chapters are extremely short, but it'll pick up pace from next chapter on, I promise! Leyton interaction coming up!]**


	3. Chapter 3

**[A/N: I own nothing.]**

****Peyton sat in her record label, still firm on her resolve. She would not let herself think about Lucas. Even as she sat in the office space he provided her. She still remembered the look on his face as he told her she could do it, that he believed in her. Then she had told him his art mattered. Then he had gone and started his new book. This, along with him kissing her back, him telling her the bartender wasn't good enough for her and a couple other moments had her believing he did love her. Then...'_I hate you._ _You shouldnt've come back. You ruined my life.' _ Aand...she was thinking about him again. DAMMIT!

She started typing feverishly on the laptop in front of her, hellbent on focusing on the matter in front of her, when she heard a knock on her door. Looking up, she saw Casanova, leaning on the door frame, hands in pockets and an air of nervousness about him as he squinted at her. She stood up. He almost felt as if she was about to throw something at him, but he breathed a sigh of relief when she simply motioned for him to come in, an almost-smile playing on her lips.

He uncertainly walked towards her. She folded her arms, showing no sign of apprehension. He slowly began. 'I don't hate you.' He looked up at her to see her reaction. She nodded in understanding, like he was a 2-year old who had told her 2 and 2 did indeed add up to 4. He continued, 'I remember the first time I saw you.' She smiled. 'All skinny arms and tangle mess of...'

'Lucas,' she interrupted. He looked at her in confusion. She placed her hand on his. 'It's OK.' He simply squinted. He had expected to be ignored, shunned, or cried at. That was the Peyton he had come to expect lately. This abrupt interruption threw him off guard. 'When I came back, I didn't expect you to be with someone else. So I overreacted. Became touchy. In fact, I'm the one who's sorry. I should've taken the high road, should've respected Lindsey for all she's done, come to terms with myself. Instead, I simply sulked.'

He stared blankly. He had told her he hated her. He deserved to be shouted, scolded, not apologised to. 'So yeah...I wasn't entirely surprised.' She smiled again, and walked out the door.

He was left alone in the office, thinking what the hell had just happened. Dazed and confused [Yep, that's a Zeppelin reference], he walked out of the room, and went to the place where he did his best healing, the River Court.

As he sat down in the spectator stand, a.k.a a few rusted iron benches on one side of the court, he knew something was wrong with the curly-haired blonde. She had pretended everything was okay. Had she meant it? If she wasn't offended, did it mean she didn't care about his thoughts anymore? Or was she, in fact, so deeply hurt that her walls had shot right up and she was running away as always? He knew full well he had brought this upon himself. He cursed himself yet again for leaving that hotel room in LA. He stared at the place where, years before, all his friends had scrawled 'We were here'. Things were so much simpler then, even if, at the time, they had felt like hell. Maybe things could be better in a few years from now. Lucas laughed at himself as he thought that. Optimism wasn't an emotion he experienced often.

He looked at the grey floor of the basketball court. That was life, he thought. Everything was grey, nothing definite, nothing constant. It was motile, everchanging, a constantly mutating entity that no one could ever make sense of. He smirked as he felt himself returning to his old, broody state. He hadn't felt this way in a long time. The introvert in him came alive, as he sighed and took his head in his hands. This was when he felt a tap to his shoulder, and he looked up into the smiling face of his ex.

Brooke Davis. She had changed his life. If he dared say it, she had shown him how to have fun. She had brought out the outgoing side of him, a side which he didn't know existed. When he first met her, she was a typical cheerleader, impossibly complementing her gloomy best friend. She was perpetually happy-go-lucky. When he was with her, he felt surprisingly uplifted, not caring about anything else. But it was also when he had lost himself entirely. He had become touchy, moody, and the kind of playboy he had promised himself he would never become. Brooke Davis had that kind of effect on people. She had stolen his innocence, his broodiness, his praticality, his depth, and above all, his security. He would never admit it to anyone, but he had never felt more vulnerable than when her was with her.

Most of all, though, she had made him forget the curly-haired, green-eyed blonde who had been his first love. As time passed, he realised she had always been there. He could never really forget her. So, to the befuddlement of those around him, he had chosen Peyton Sawyer over Brooke Davis. The depressed, moody, introverted, tragic tortured artist over the bubbly, cheery, forever happy cheerleader. If asked, he probably couldn't explain it himself. But he was utterly sure it had always been Peyton.

Now, as the cheery brunette stood before him, he couldn't help but feel how much it was like old times. Him peacefully brooding, her interrupting. But she was amazing, and had grown incredible in recent years, making her an amazing woman.

'Hey Brooke!' he said. She had never really understood when he needed to be alone. He smiled as she sat down next to him.

'You brooding over Blondie?'

'I'm blonde too!', he said, pointing unnecessarily at his own hair. She chuckled. 'Well...yeah.'

'You wanna talk about it?'

He was surprised. They had never done this. His go-to was usually Peyton or Haley. However, he obliged.

'Well...ok.'

He folded his arms and began. 'I apologized to her today.' Brooke nodded. 'And she said it's ok.' Brooke raised her brows. 'Well normally that's a good thing, Broody.'

He sighed. 'It's just...not her, you know. Either she's incredibly pissed at me or she doesn't care anymore'. Brooke nodded approvingly. She was kind of surprised Lucas had understood that so quickly.

'Or she's just trying to move on.' Lucas looked the other way. 'Broody! That's what you wanted her to do, remember? So if she's doing it, what's the big deal?' Brooke was getting him to own up about his feelings for Peyton.

'I...I made a mistake.' There it was, plain and clear. Brooke smiled. 'I should've waited. I hurried into proposing. I hurt her then, and I hurt her again.' He finally looked at Brooke sadly.

'But it can't ever be the same. I realize that now.' he mumbled. 'Why not?!' Brooke insisted. She was hoping to clear Leyton up once and for all. 'Because we hurt each other too much? Because we cannot go back now. Because the scars will remain. The scars of who we used to be, and what we did.'

Brooke rolled her eyes, not buying it. 'Because we can't repair it now. She clearly wants to move on.'

'So she says. But you could change that.'

'No, Brooke. She's got those walls up again. And I don't know if she'll ever really trust me again.'

'Lucas...' she sighed. 'That's what you thought last time. When she left you on the porch and broke up with you. That's what you thought when she said 'someday'. And both times, she came back for you.' Lucas squinted at her. 'Maybe it's time you do the same.'

Lucas shook his head, relapsing into silence.

'Okay, tell me. What makes you think Peyton's the one for you? Why not Lindsey? Why not anyone else? Gimme the Peyton version of that rain speech you gave me.' He looked at her incredulously. The most embarrassing speech he's ever given.

'I won't take it personally.' She smiled at him. 'What do you love about her? What's so unique about her?'

He went into deep thought for a minute. When he opened his mouth, she expected him to give a long philosophical speech proclaiming his deep love. His response stunned her.

'I don't know.' She looked at him questioningly. 'You wrote a book about her and you don't know why love her?'

Lucas smiled goofily. 'Well, I could say I love her because she's beautiful, because she's an amazing artist, because she expresses herself in intricate, elaborate ways, because she loves music with a passion I didn't think possible, because she understands me, because she always believes in everyone, because she's a forever sacrificing person, because she's got an unbelievably kickass best friend.' He grinned own at Brooke, who awkwardly smiled. 'But those things...they could change. She could have an accident, and her face could be disfigured. She could become so eternally depressed I couldn't handle her. But I'd still love her.'

'She could be the ugliest, most selfish, immature, shallowest and most impractical person on the planet and I'd still love her. I know that sounds incredibly cheesy, but it's true. But if I were to guess at why I love her, it would be because...because...she _completes_ me.'

He looked back to Brooke, satisfied with his answer. She looked back in wonder. 'I...wow!'

He smirked at her. 'Well, if you want her back, all you've to do is tell her that!' Brooke said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Lucas got up. 'I would, but...I have a feeling she already knows that.'

And he walked off without a word.


End file.
